


and then, there was you

by ivorykeys09



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-08-25 05:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16655443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorykeys09/pseuds/ivorykeys09
Summary: Five times Felicity and Oliver save each other.(sometimes literally, but mostly in the fake relationship way.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I'm posting another story when I haven't updated my current WIP in nearly a year(!), but this is an idea that I couldn't shake. I miss writing and posting, and this is coming more easily to me right now. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

**i.**

 

The thundering bass sounds through the speakers and shimmies the row of clean glasses with every _thump thump thump_ of the beat. The music is so loud he has to practically lean over the bar to hear the orders, and the work is sticky and thankless, but there’s a routine to it that he appreciates. He’s only behind the bar once a month—usually when someone calls out sick, like tonight—but he likes getting his hands dirty every so often and experiencing firsthand what they’ve built. It’s busy tonight so he and Luke, the other bartender, have barely had a second to take a breath. But there’s finally a lull in orders, so he leans against the back wall and relishes the short moment of peace.

Where he’s standing behind the walnut bar gives him an undisturbed view of the bouncing club in front of him. He can keep an eye on the dance floor, the secluded tables on the perimeter, and the balcony upstairs. It’s also the perfect spot to watch his sister make her rounds. Thea floats around the room with a smile wide on her face, effortlessly playing the part of club owner and friend. In a span of one minute, he watches her pick up an abandoned shot glass, drop it on a passing tray, kiss a woman on the cheek in greeting, nudge a lingering, and check on a VIP table.

Here, she is in her element. And even if the months of work that went into opening Verdant had ended up being a financial waste—(they weren’t)—watching her grow into the role would have been worth it in itself.

She’s been killing it lately and he couldn’t be prouder. Verdant is not his sole focus, but it is her's—and it shows. In just under two years, they’ve turned a profit, the VIP tables are routinely booked eight weeks out, and the line is wrapped around the building every night. Technically they are equal partners in the club, but the more he’s watched her take the reins and steer it towards success, the more confident he is with his decision to give her more ownership share. As he watches Thea wander her way over to him, he makes a mental note to meet with his financial advisor to get the paperwork started.

“It’s packed tonight!” she says excitedly, sounding a little out of breath as she drops some empty glasses before him. “That DJ really brought in a big crowd.”

Oliver fights a grin at that, because they both know it’s a lie. The kid was too cheap to bring in a following this big, so it’s got nothing to do with him and everything to do with Thea’s excellent marketing and service. But if his sister is going to play coy tonight, so will he.

Smirking, he nods and schools his voice, “Yeah, that must be it,” he says, and the flush that appears on Thea’s cheeks tells him she’s heard right through him. Rolling her eyes with a smile, she fires off a quick drink order, swaying to the music as he makes them, and then is off to the VIP section again.

Even without a big fanbase, the new DJ she booked is actually pretty good—the fact that _he_ can figure that out is saying something—and he’s sure they’ll bring him back. It seems like his set has a good mix of techno, pop, and everything in between. The kid had even connected his equipment to the club’s lighting system, so the room changes colors and flashes differently to every song. Oliver doesn’t mind the colored ones, but he does mind the strobe lights, and so when the giant beams start rapidly turning on and off, he takes it as his cue.

With a quick tap to Luke’s shoulder, he holds up his hand. “Back in five,” he mouths, wishing he was already in the upstairs office. Strobe lights have always made him anxious, but it’s worsened in the past few years. They are choppy and overwhelming and make everything feel like it’s going in slow motion. There’s a dream-like quality to them that isn’t actually dreamy at all; it just makes him feel like he’s missed a few seconds and needs to catch up with the rest of the world.

So when he hooks around the bar to walk through the dance floor and spots a blonde woman rushing towards him, he actually thinks he’s imagining her. But with every beam of light that flashes through the darkened room, she appears a little closer... and the last thing that registers in his mind is how gorgeous she is, before her lips are on his.

Oliver is so stunned, it takes a long moment for him to do anything other than stand there. It doesn’t even occur to him that this is weird—that a random woman suddenly kissing him is an odd thing—because the way her mouth is moving against his feels anything but strange.

Her lips are soft but confident, pressed against his in a way that tells him she hasn’t made a mistake; so when her arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer, he takes it as permission to respond in kind.

Gripping her lower back, he trails her lips with his tongue, coaxing them to part, and when she does, he swears he feels her hum against him. It’s probably the vibrating room they’re standing in, but the more insistent her lips become, the more the thundering club around them seems to fade away.

The kiss is desperate and greedy, and awakens something in his chest he can’t quite name. All he knows is that he likes the feeling, so he chases it with fervor.

It feels like both hours and seconds have passed, and when she finally pulls away, he finds himself unconsciously— _ridiculously_ —gripping the fabric of her dress to keep her in place. Looking down, she’s close enough where they still share a breath, but not far enough away for him to really look at her.

The kiss had melted away his anxiety, but the strobe lights continue to torture him. This time in a different way, since he is only given quick hints of what she looks like before going dark again. Yet even through the little peeks he’s given, he knows without a doubt she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

Before he can open his mouth, she lifts up to press a few final kisses on his mouth and jawline, quick and brief, like a habit. It breaks the spell a little; and it’s as if the DJ can sense the shift, because the moment her heels touch the ground, the song changes and the flashing lights are replaced by a stream of violet.

He finds the color fits her perfectly.

The uninterrupted light allows him to really look at her for the first time, and if he thought she was beautiful before, it doesn’t compare to what she looks like now. He has never felt so gut-punched, so deeply affected, so _completely_ captivated before—and he doesn’t even know her name.

She startles a little at the sight of him, as if she can’t figure out how she got here, wrapped in his arms, even if _she’s_ the one who kissed _him_. But rather than looking uneasy or scared, she instead looks just as struck, and so when he feels her relax against him again, he simply tilts his head in silent question.

Her eyes sparkle up at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says, failing at hiding his smile. The music is still noisy, but from how close they are to each other, and their spot away from the main speaker, they can hear each other perfectly.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says, a little loudly—strangely loud—reaching up to thumb away the lipstick she must have left. And then she’s twisting in his arms to face the same direction that he is, towards the entrance and balcony staircase. He reaches out to stop her, suddenly afraid she’s going to leave without another word, but she surprises him by taking one of his hands and staying close to his side.

Oliver’s eyes follow every move she makes, utterly entranced by this mysterious woman, but he quickly notices she is not as distracted as he is. Instead, her attention is focused on a man a few feet from them—someone he is just now noticing.

A man who look incredibly pissed off.

He doesn’t know what’s going on, but the way the guy is shooting daggers towards her doesn’t sit well.

“Can I help you?” Oliver asks, raising his voice over the music.

His mystery girl answers instead. “He’s a _creep_ and wouldn’t stop following me or begging me to dance, even _after_ I told him I have a boyfriend.” She gestures at Oliver, a little wildly, with her free hand to prove her point. “See, buddy! This is my very, super-duper _not_ fake boyfriend, who is absolutely _not_ a cover-up to tell you to get lost. He’s very _very_ real.” She pokes his chest a little to emphasize her words.

Oliver feels a spark of fury flare and instinctually takes a step towards the guy in question, but she holds him back and keeps talking.

“Not only is he actually really _real_ , but he’s also _way_ hotter and sexier and handsom... _er_ than you’ll _ever_ be. Yup. Handsomer. That’s totally a word. Right?” she asks, looking up at him.

And it’s when they lock eyes, does she must suddenly realize what she’s said, because she shuts her mouth and blushes furiously, looking embarrassed for the first time since they met. And though heat floods through him at her words—which, by the way she said them, were unwittingly sincere—he feels more rage against the asshole who’d put her in this position in the first place.

Playing his part, he pulls her closer, wordlessly noting the way she fits perfectly against his side, and sends an angry glare at the jerk. He lowers his voice. “I suggest you leave. _Now_.”

“Or what?” the guy challenges.

“Or I’ll throw you out of this club so fast, you won’t know your own name.”

“Whatever,” the guy scoffs, shaking his head. He turns away from them to leave, but at the last second, decides to stupidly press his luck. It’s still really loud, but they both don’t miss the, _“Bitch,”_ that he mumbles under his breath, before Oliver erupts.

In one motion he unfolds himself from the blonde beside him and hooks an arm around the guy’s neck. The fact that his drunk, spoiled, peeing-on-cop teen days are far behind him—and that he’s the owner of the place—forces him to not make a scene. But he still drags the guy outside, not gently, and pushes him towards the direction of the parking lot. It’s only when the jerk decks him does Oliver wish he actually got a punch in, but the bouncers pull the guy off before he gets the chance. “I better not see you here again,” he growls, giving their head of security, Joe, a look that says, _take care of this._

His head is absolutely pounding, and he purposely avoids looking at the line of club-goers waiting to go inside. It’s futile to hope they don’t own cell phones, and the quick succession of flashes that go off when he turns around proves it: he’d definitely had an audience.

For the first time in awhile, he actually doesn’t care. And he could give a shit about the respectable shiner he’ll have tomorrow, or his bleeding lip. All he can think about is getting back in the club.

When he turns to head back inside, the world spins a little, and he feels a hand reach out to steady him.

“Woah, easy there, sir,” the bouncer says, keeping his palm on Oliver’s shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he says gruffly, continuing towards the entrance. The music is hell on earth when he steps inside and, for the second time tonight, he spots a woman rushing towards him.

But at this woman, he groans.

“Ollie, what the hell just happened? I heard some guy _punched_ you?”

“Not now, Thea.”

“Wai—Ollie!”

In the ninety seconds since he’s been gone, it seems like 100 other bodies have made their way inside. The dance floor is so packed people can barely dance. His eyes bounce from person to person as he weaves through the crowd, focusing only on the blondes he passes, while deftly avoiding any other women that hopefully approach him.

After his fourth circle through the dance floor, Thea pulls him to the perimeter. “Ollie, you're starting to look like a creep,” she says, which he responds quickly with a glare. The only creep in here tonight has already been ejected. “Who are you looking for?”

His eyes unconsciously flit around the crowd once more, even though he knows she's gone.

“No one,” he sighs, leaning over to kiss her temple. “I’m gonna head home. My head is killing me. Can you tell Luke to close?” He only waits for her to nod before turning for the exit, not in the mood to answer any questions.

Mainly because he is only interested in one:  

_Who the hell was she?_

  
.

.

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean to take this long to update! This is a fun story to write. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

**ii.**

 

It has been A Day.

An utterly exhausting, positively terrible day, that only mint chip and wine can fix.

Walking into the grocery store and finding a shopping cart, Felicity silently replays it all in her mind.

Her morning had actually been pretty great. She’d woken up early, met Iris for yoga, and spent the first meeting of the day closing a huge deal with Star City Hospital. A contract for three years, it’ll make up roughly 20% of their profit, and is yet another major win for her company.

Smoak Technologies is only in its third year, but it has been surpassing every expectation her initial investors had set from the start. They now have well over twenty-five clients, spanning a few industries and size, and are continuing to grow at a substantial rate.

Which is why Felicity had finally hired an HR manager last year. With her days packed with meetings and general work, she didn’t have the time to personally recruit new employees anymore. She still interviewed everyone who came in the door—it’d be awhile before she gave that up—but she really needed someone to help with paperwork, handle salaries and admin tasks, and create a true company culture. Libby McShane had been the last hire she’d done completely on her own, and it had been a good one. In the past eighteen months alone Libby had brought in a few interns and nearly fifteen full-time specialists and coders—half of whom were persuaded from rivals, the others plucked straight from graduation. All were brilliant and eager to learn, and with Curtis, Alena, and a few other early recruits, they were closing in on thirty employees. Smoak Tech was finally successful enough to not be deemed a “start up” anymore.

Felicity was so proud of it—no, _them._ So when she’d discovered this morning, while going through the monthly statements, that Libby had been secretly paying one of their best developers an extra few hundred dollars every month… she didn’t just feel anger. She hardly cared about the money, because it hadn’t gone on very long and in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t that much. She simply felt _betrayed._ (And that was before she found out that Libby—the person she’d put in charge of “employee relations”—had taken her job quite literally. She’d been sleeping with the guy, too.) So much trust and decency had vanished in mere seconds, leaving behind deep disappointment in its wake.

She’d fired them on the spot, called in her lawyer, and spent the rest of the day dealing with the mess. The only upside to the whole thing is she’d had a valid excuse to get out of dinner with Billy, which she hadn’t wanted to go on anyway. It was supposed to be their third date and she already wasn’t into it.

So aside from skipping out on that, today has been the actual _woooorst._

Trying to snap out of it, she looks down in her cart and laughs at the random assortment of food. She’s been zoned out since the minute she started shopping, so she re-focuses, heads towards the freezer aisle and—

“Oh. My. Stars. Felicity _Smoak?_ Is that really you?!”

That voice.

She knows that voice.

Actually… she kind of _hates_ that voice.

Ugh, the universe is not being kind this week.

It’s been approximately five years since she’s heard Melanie Thorpe’s voice, and it still grates her in a way that makes her want to stab something. Melanie was born in Tennessee, then moved to Boston when she was two, and yet still refuses to speak in anything other than a twangy southern accent.

The last time they saw each other was their graduation day, and Felicity can still picture the way Mel’s cap stuck out in the crowd. MIT had been spelled out in pink glitter on the top that left little shimmery pieces on every person she’d hugged goodbye. Until the day they received their diplomas, Mel was a flamingo in a pack of nerdy geniuses at MIT; with flouncy skirts and big curls, professors and students alike almost always questioned if she’d accidentally stumbled onto the wrong campus.

But no matter how much her drawl made her shiver, Felicity still could never deny how much she’d enjoyed watching Mel drop people’s jaws. The girl was— _is—_ brilliant, and countless companies had been vying for her employment before they’d even graduated.

They weren’t in each other’s close circles (Melanie wasn’t what you’d call...a hacktivist) but friends-from-a-distance in that way overlapped classes and Friday night dorm parties made you be. In all honesty, Felicity’s barely thought about her in years. And yet, at the visceral reminder of her old classmate, she quietly surmises if she’d worn a little less black, and Mel a little less pearls, they’d probably be genuine friends.

And come to think of it, ever since she went blonde and started wearing bright dresses and colors other than dark ones, she, herself, has had to prove herself time and time again in the tech world.

Maybe she and Melanie have more in common than she thought.

Taking another breath, she turns around and….the sight that awaits her is very different than she remembers.

Melanie is still in head-to-toe Lilly Pulitzer, but instead of books, she’s got an arm full of baby. A boy, no older than a year, dressed in blue gingham seersucker is perched on her hip. He has rosy cheeks and wispy blonde curls, and Felicity’s heart stutters at how sweet he is. Beside Melanie is a fancy-looking stroller doubling as a shopping cart, filled to the brim with diapers and dry goods.

“Mel!” Felicity greets, mind still catching up to how this is possible, considering the last time they saw each other they were on the other side of the country.

Melanie laughs in delight. “I cannot _believe_ you’re here! What a small world we live in,” she says, switching the baby to her other hip.   

“So small,” Felicity agrees, still taking in the full picture. “You’re...a mom!”

Melanie beams. “I know, can you believe it? Isn’t he just the most precious little thing?” she says warmly, pressing a kiss to her son’s curls. “So what is new with you? Tell me everything!”

With a deep breath, Felicity wills all of the patience the world can offer her for the next few minutes. But before she can answer, Melanie’s eyes dart around the produce section.

“Did Cooper finally let you out of his sight for hot minute? Last I saw you two, y’all were glued at the hip.” And then her face brightens. “Oh, and how was the _wedding?!_ I read in the Alumni magazine a few years back that y’all were engaaaaged!”

Throat tightening, Felicity just waves her bare left hand briefly, then uses it to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Oh, we’re not together anymore,” she says quickly, hoping Melanie will let her leave it at that. Explaining that she’d discovered Cooper’s plans to hack into the social security database and steal savings from unsuspecting elders was too complicated to get into. They’d only been engaged four months when she found the evidence, and even though he never actually went through with it, the damage was done. She’d left him the next day.

(The irony of how similar this morning’s situation had been is, unfortunately, not lost on her.)

Melanie looks stricken. “Bless your heart,” she says, laying a hand over her own. “How devastating!”

“No, it all ended up okay. I actually have my own company now,” she says, hoping the pride her words swell inside her never go away.

Melanie keeps going, as if not hearing a word she’s said. “No, how awful! Y’all could’ve had a few kids by now! I mean to tell you, it wasn’t until I had Holden, here, did I realize that this is _truly_ the most important work.”

Feeling stung, Felicity starts, “Oh, well, we’re actually doing really amazing work. Just this morning we signed a huge deal with Star City Hos—" 

“There you are,” comes a low voice behind her. “I thought we were meeting in the ice cream aisle.” A hand drops to her lower back, warm and supportive.

At the feeling, she looks up to her right and it’s him.

It’s the mystery guy.

From the club.

Who she sort of—aggressively?—made out with.

And then ran from.

She blinks, trying to catch up to what's happening. But then the hand smoothing gentle circles on her back clues her in, and she feels a rush of gratitude towards him, once again. “Sorry, I ran into an old friend,” she says absently, still staring up at the absurdly handsome stranger. She’d really only seen him under the flashing nightclub lights, but under the bright grocery store lighting, his attractiveness is, frankly, a little overwhelming.

“You just can’t quit mint chip, can you?” he teases, giving her a flirty grin that makes her skin feel warm.

“Hmm, nope,” she smiles, scrunching her nose at him. God, his eyes are so _so_ blue.

And then they’re just staring at each other, grocery store and Melanie completely forgotten, leaving the air sparking around them.

A throat clearing breaks the moment, and they both look over to Melanie, who looks positively elated. “Well aren’t y’all just a sight for sore eyes! Felicity, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“Oh, sorry,” she says, shaking her head and laying a hand on his (very warm, very hard) chest. “This is…” but then stops. Because...holy frack, _what is his name?!_

“Oliver,” he finishes smoothly, “it’s nice to meet you. And who’s this little one?” He smiles and gestures to the baby, who looks five seconds from falling asleep in Mel's arms.

“This is Holden, my pride and joy,” Melanie answers, resting her cheek against the baby’s head. “I was just telling Felicity how wonderful motherhood is. It’s the best thing you could ever do, mark my words. Y’all have to get a move on and start having some babies of your own!”

Felicity chokes on her own breath. “Oh, we—”

“We’re actually not in a rush at all,” he interrupts, sounding put off. She can tell by his tone that he’s bothered by the conversation and she feels silently redeemed, because it bothers her too. “I mean, she’s busy running a major company, so I’d say that’s the best thing she could be doing right now. Besides, I think we’d rather keep our nights late for reasons other than feedings and diaper changes, right babe?”

The insinuation, and the heated way he looks down at her, makes her feel dazed.   

 _Yes. So many late nights,_ Felicity thinks, before realizing she’s said it out loud. She rubs her forehead, shaking her head to cover her embarrassment. “Working, I mean. At the office. On my company. Not with...” Before she can make it worse, she picks up the pint of mint chip from her basket. “You know what? Speaking of late nights, we should get going, or this ice cream is going to melt completely.”

The combination of Oliver plus Melanie plus this incredibly long, shitty day has her feeling more flustered than she’s felt in a long time, and she’s annoyed by it.

She gives her old classmate a smile and reaches out to softly touch Holden’s back. “Melanie, it was so nice seeing you again. I’m really happy that you’ve gotten everything you’ve dreamed of.” She means it sincerely, but she can’t help but add, “So have I.”

And with that, she gives another wave and turns towards the check-out line, not totally knowing if Oliver will follow. He doesn’t, and instead meets her outside. She spots him immediately, since there aren't many cars in the lot. But instead of a car, he’s leaning against a sleek motorcycle, and she’s entirely unsurprised to realize she all of a sudden has a huge thing for bikers.

The only sound is the wind blowing around them, and though she doesn’t really know what to say, she does know where to start.

“Thank you, Oliver. For last week, and tonight. I didn’t need you to save me again, but it helped.”

He taps his fingers against the helmet resting against the handlebars. “I know you didn’t need my help tonight. But I didn’t like what she was saying to you, or implying. It bothered me.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Because it was bullshit.”

Felicity breathes out a nervous laugh. This man is so incredibly charming, she has to remind herself—and him—that they are still total strangers. “You don’t even know me.”

“Not yet.”

“Oh?” she asks, feeling brave by his forwardness and taking a step closer to him. The pull towards him is strong, but she forces herself to keep a foot between them.  

He sobers a little. “I am enamored by you,” he says, voice warm and low and only for her. “I don’t know what it is about you, but I’ve never been so compelled to know someone before. And I don’t feel that a lot. Nor am I usually this open about it.” The way he says it is sweet and self-deprecating and makes him all the more likeable. “I’d love to take you to dinner to get to know you better.”

She considers him for a long moment. He’s _unfairly_ attractive and has saved her on two separate occasions—one at his own doing, but still. He seems normal and kind and different from anyone else she’s ever met. But beyond that—she knows he’s telling the truth. There is something about his voice and the way he’s looking at her that tells her there is so much more to his story that she doesn’t know. And as much as she wants to have him tell her—or learn it for herself—she still doesn’t think her heart is ready for this just yet. Because everything about him—the way he looks at her, kisses her, and makes her feel—she knows this could be really big.

“I think I like the mystery of this,” she says, hating the way he deflates at her answer. “I really want to get to know you too, but I think I need a little more time.”

He nods, accepting her words instead of fighting them, and gets on his bike. “I understand. Well, I hope we run into each other again soon.”

“Me, too.” And it’s the truth. She really, really hopes they do.

He starts the bike’s engine and the roar makes her insides swoop with heat. Good lord, everything this man does is sexy.

Taking a breath, she begins to walk towards her car when his voice stops her. “Hey, Felicity.”

When she glances back, the look he gives her nearly makes her change her mind.

“Maybe next time you could save me, for a change?” And with that, he winks, puts on his helmet, and drives away.

Frack.

_._

_._

_tbc_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still liking it? ;) Thanks for reading. I always appreciate reviews! xx


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